by Angie E.

After surviving a series of devastating traumas, including the loss of both parents and a harrowing act of violence, Bonnie Lincoln wins the lottery in Ashley Hutson’s novel One’s Company. Instead of buying a new house in the traditional sense, she moves to an isolated mountain compound and hires staff to construct an exact replica of the 1980s sit-com Three’s Company set, complete with everyone’s apartment units.

In what she now calls home, Bonnie attempts to live as each of the show’s characters, cycling through their wardrobes, their quirks, their scripted joy. It’s a surreal and (I have to say bizarre!) premise, but Hutson manages it with such clarity that it never feels absurd, even if does seem alarming yet somehow inevitable. There’s something hauntingly familiar about the way Bonnie seeks refuge in nostalgia. In a world that often feels too sharp, too loud, too cruel, Bonnie’s retreat into the sitcom world of Three’s Company feels less like madness and more like a desperate kind of hope.

As a child of the 70s and early 80s who watched and adored Three’s Company during its original prime time run and in reruns, I get it. I have lived there once, in front of the screen. But Bonnie’s journey is a reminder that even though nostalgia can be a balm, it can also be a blade. What makes One’s Company so affecting is its refusal to pathologize Bonnie. Her choices are extreme, even worrisome, but they are also deeply human. Who among us hasn’t longed to disappear into a simpler world, one where problems resolve in 22 minutes and laughter is guaranteed? Bonnie’s obsession is not just escapism, it’s a taking back of control, a rewriting of her own narrative in a world that has repeatedly written over her.

Angie is an Instructor & Research Specialist at Central Branch and is a co-facilitator for Reads of Acceptance, HCLS’ first LGBTQ-focused book club. Her ideal day is reading in her cozy armchair, with her cat Henry next to her.